


Paris is For Lovers

by PrincessKitty1



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, gratuitous fluff, this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written in my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6048313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessKitty1/pseuds/PrincessKitty1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her way home one night, Marinette spots Chat Noir leaping across rooftops and decides to transform and follow him. Little does she know her partner is more of a hopeless romantic than she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paris is For Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic in an entire day. Please send help.

Marinette stepped out of the craft store and into the chilly Parisian evening. In her hand she carried materials for her latest project: canvas wall hangings decorated with complementary colored fabrics. It was a special request from her mother, who wanted to put up some kind of art in the bakery, but hadn’t felt like spending a fortune on paintings. Marinette opened her mouth and exhaled for the pure delight of watching her breath cloud in front of her. She loved cold weather—mostly because it allowed her to wear layers and fall clothes. She’d take the long way home just to enjoy it a little longer.  
 

A pair of women walking by stopped and pointed upwards. “Isn’t that Chat Noir?” one of them asked.  
 

Marinette followed the gesturing finger. Sure enough, she caught the familiar figure of a boy in black against the twilight sky. He ran on all fours along the top of the building, leapt to an adjacent roof, and vanished. “Tikki,” she whispered.  
 

The kwami poked her head out of Marinette’s scarf. “Yes?”  
 

“You haven’t received any distress calls from Chat, have you?”  
 

Tikki frowned. “No, none.”  
 

Marinette put a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to her other leg. What would Chat Noir be doing around Paris at this time of night? As far as publicity events went, they were usually invited together, and their next one was in two weeks. If he hadn’t called for help, there wasn’t an akuma on the loose. And it wasn’t an imposter in a Chat Noir costume; the gap between the buildings he’d crossed was far too wide for someone to make without Miraculous help.  
 

She checked the time on her cell phone. 7:05, and she’d promised to be home by nine. “Come on, Tikki,” she said.  
 

“Where are we going?”  
 

“To follow Chat Noir, of course.” Marinette ducked into an alley and crouched behind a dumpster. No one noticed the bright flash of her transformation, and no one saw Ladybug kick off the walls until she landed gracefully on the roof—which was kind of a shame, because she thought it was impressive, even for her. She dropped her bag of fabric somewhere the wind wouldn’t knock it over, then took off in pursuit of her partner.  
 

It didn’t take long to catch up to him. In fact, if she hadn’t stopped herself in time, Marinette might have bowled right into him. He crouched at the end of a roof, peering over the edge. The noise of her landing caught his attention, but she dove behind a chimney just in time to avoid being seen. Marinette held her breath and counted to twenty before she dared to peer out from hiding spot.  
 

Chat was still there, watching something down below. With incredible care and unbearable slowness, Marinette crept over to the chimney’s other side, and once there, she looked over the edge of the building herself.  
 

A woman sat alone at a table outside a café. She held a pen in one hand, which she tapped on the surface of a notebook, her brow creased in a slight frown. She was pretty, but Marinette couldn’t fathom why Chat Noir would be staring at her. A crush? No, the woman was in her early thirties at least, and Chat was a teenager as far as Marinette knew. Still, he kept watch over the woman, not moving until…  
 

A waiter came out of the café. Chat leaned forward, his green eyes wide.  
 

The waiter approached the woman and laid a cup of something beside her hand. “Your hot chocolate, miss.”  
 

“Thank you.” The woman smiled at him. He lingered beside the table.  
 

“I-If there’s anything else I can get for you, please don’t hesitate to ask,” he said. For a moment the woman seemed on the verge of saying something, but she closed her mouth and nodded instead.  
 

Chat Noir let out an audible groan. “Seriously?” Before Marinette could register what was happening, Chat jumped off the building and landed next to the waiter, effectively scaring both him and the woman senseless. “Good evening, mademoiselle!” he boomed, offering her a bow.  
 

“C-Chat Noir?”  
 

“That’s correct. I’m here on behalf of my acquaintance, Thomas.” Chat clapped the waiter on the shoulder as if they were long lost buddies. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks, you see. He thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on, and he’d have told you so himself days ago if he wasn’t so painfully shy.”  
 

“Oh!” The woman giggled and held a hand to her mouth. Her attention shifted to the waiter. “Is that true?”  
 

“Uh… ah…” The poor waiter looked from the woman to Chat, who gave him a now’s-your-chance glare and jerked his head in her direction. “Yes, it’s true. I, uh… I think you’re very pretty, and…” Chat rolled his hands around in a ‘keep going’ gesture. “I’d like to ask you out on a date. I’m asking you out on a date. Right now. I mean, I’m working so it won’t be right this second, but, whenever you’re free—if you’d like to go on a date with me, that is.”  
 

The woman’s smile lit up her entire face. “I’d love that,” she said, her voice warm with affection.  
 

Chat grinned. “Perfect! My work here is done. You two have a nice evening,” he said before taking off down the street.  
 

Marinette blinked. The waiter and the woman were shaking hands, their faces suffused with a timid sort of happiness. She lifted her head to see where Chat had gone and saw that he’d propelled himself onto another roof with his baton, and now ran in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. Marinette bolted after him.  
 

When she caught up to Chat again, he’d slipped into a hotel through an open skylight. She chose not to go in herself. He was clearly visible from her vantage point, lurking in the shadows of a large hall where two teenagers walked together, not quite looking at each other. The boy wore a suit and the girl an evening gown. Their expressions betrayed mutual discomfort. Marinette saw Chat hide behind a black piano that stood bathed in moonlight a short distance away.  
 

“Some party, huh?” the boy asked the girl. She snorted.  
 

“Yeah, a real riot.”  
 

They retreated from the main ballroom in no real hurry. From where she hid, Marinette could hear the voices and music of the party in the other room. Her heartbeat kicked up when the teenagers passed the piano, but they didn’t see Chat, who crept around and parked himself on the bench as soon as they were clear. She watched him lift the cover off the piano keys, crack his knuckles, wiggle his fingers, then move them into position.  
 

“How about a dance?” Chat suggested to the couple, who gasped and turned to face him. But before either of them could say a word, he began to play.  
 

Marinette’s eyes widened as the waltz filled the hall and floated out into the cold night. Chat Noir could play the piano? And not just toying around—he could _really play_ , as if he’d been doing it his whole life.  
 

Flustered, the two teens looked back at each other. The girl made a sound that was halfway between a cough and a squawk. The boy clenched his fists at his sides, then took a deep breath and held his arms out to the girl. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping towards him. In seconds the pair grew comfortable with each other, and then they were waltzing, dancing around the hall, surefooted and confident. The boy wore a huge smile. The girl threw her head back and laughed. And Chat Noir played for them, taking an occasional glance at the happy couple, but otherwise letting them have their moment.  
 

When the song ended, he jumped up and applauded them both. “Bravo! What a handsome pair!”  
 

The girl squealed and hid behind the boy’s arm. “Thanks,” he said to Chat, unable to wipe the smile off his face.  
 

Chat saluted them, then ran off down the hall. Marinette heard the girl ask the boy if he could believe that Chat Noir had just played the piano for them, but she didn’t stick around for his answer. Chat had exited a side door and vaulted back onto a rooftop, and Marinette followed him, noticing for the first time that she, like the boy, had a smile on her face she couldn’t get rid of.  
 

Two minutes into the chase Chat skidded to a halt at the edge of a roof overlooking a small courtyard. Marinette caught a wicked little grin on his face before he dropped out of sight. She threw herself down and army-crawled to the ledge, praying he hadn’t seen her and led her there for a confrontation. No, he was two stories beneath her, back turned, balancing on his baton and yanking a string of fairy lights off of someone’s window. He worked quickly, pulling the nails out of the brick wall and replacing them in different positions. When he was finished, he stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled, then dropped out of sight.  
 

The lights had been rearranged into the shape of a heart. A very confused young woman opened the window to see who’d whistled, at the same time her neighbor across the courtyard opened his window to investigate the noise. Their eyes met. The girl squeaked in a way that was totally familiar to Marinette. “G-G-Good evening, Monsieur Blaise! Did you hear—I thought I heard—was that _you_ who whistled at—?” Then she noticed the heart-shaped lights around her window and cried out in alarm. “I didn’t do that! I swear I didn’t—!”  
 

The man across the courtyard laughed and leaned out of his window, his handsome face the picture of amusement. “I did hear the noise, as a matter of fact. But perhaps we can meet downstairs to talk about it, so we don’t wake our neighbors?”  
 

Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. How long had Chat Noir been observing them, waiting for the opportunity to help the man notice his admiring neighbor? How long had he been dashing around Paris at night playing cupid for its citizens?  
 

When Marinette caught up to him again, he’d landed on a balcony, and as she watched he tapped on the door with his nail and waited. Moments later, a guy in a dress jacket and tie came out to meet him. “Tonight’s the night,” Chat said.  
 

“Tonight’s the night,” the man agreed, then let out a low moan. “I think I’m going to hurl.”  
 

“You’re fine!” Chat whacked him on the back. “It’s just nerves. You’ll do great.”  
 

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one proposing to the love of your life.” The man squinted at him. “Or are you?”  
 

Chat leaned against the balcony with a distant smile. “The love of my life doesn’t know she’s the love of my life. But let’s not make this about me. It’s _your_ night. You practiced, right?”  
 

“Every word.”  
 

“You have the ring?”  
 

The man patted down his sports jacket, then dug into the right pocket and pulled out a velvet box. “Ring, check.”  
 

“Open it and make sure you didn’t take it out.”  
 

He opened the box. Marinette saw the tiny spark of light from her hiding spot. “It’s here.”  
 

“Then you’re ready!” Chat cheered.  
 

The man groaned again and started pacing. “Maybe it’s too soon. What if she says no?”  
 

“Why would she say no? You’ve been together for a year, you’re crazy about each other, and you’re the one who said she was dropping hints about wanting to get married.” Chat crossed his arms. “Don’t make me propose for you. I’m half your height. It’ll be humiliating.”  
 

The man stopped, sagged, sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s just nerves. She’s going to say yes. She loves me.” Chat nodded along to each point. The man looked at him. “What about you, Chat Noir? Have you gotten up the courage to ask your Lady on a date?”  
 

Chat’s expression was one of comical embarrassment. “Who said anything about My Lady?”  
 

“The girl you love—it’s Ladybug, isn’t it?”  
 

Marinette felt her heart, her stomach, and the rest of her guts drop to her feet. She almost turned away. She knew she ought to turn away. But she couldn’t. She watched Chat smile that same distant smile, a tired and sad sort of smile that he directed at the moon. “Ladybug is pretty amazing, huh?”  
 

It wasn’t an answer, not really. But the look on his face said everything he wouldn’t.  
 

The man’s cell phone chimed, causing all three of them to jump. He pulled it out of his pocket with shaking hands. “She’s here. Oh God, she’s here. What do I do?”  
 

Chat grabbed him by the shoulders. “Propose,” he said.  
 

“Propose.” The man nodded, tapped a hasty reply to his girlfriend, then stood back as Chat Noir jumped onto the balcony rail. “I’d be honored if you came to the wedding,” he said. “You and Ladybug both.”  
 

Chat hesitated. “I can’t make any promises.”  
 

“Right. Superheroes, secret identities…”  
 

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.” He shooed the man away. “Go, go! Don’t keep her waiting any longer.” Then he spread his arms and took a swan dive off the balcony.  
 

Marinette rose up a little to see which direction he’d run next, but found him waiting in the shadows below. She waited with him. Ten minutes later the man and his girlfriend emerged into the moonlit night. Marinette smiled when he rubbed her arms to keep her warm. They spoke in low, intimate tones, and it was clear that the woman adored him. When he moved in front of her and got down on one knee, her hands flew up to her mouth. He’d hardly asked the question before she was nodding, yes, and when he slipped the ring on her finger she pulled him to his feet, right into a kiss.  
 

Chat Noir fled the scene immediately. Marinette kept a safe distance from him, but she was close enough to hear him whoop before he launched into a series of handsprings that ended in him throwing himself off a building. She couldn’t help laughing at his antics. From his reaction, one would’ve thought _he’d_ been the one who got engaged.  
 

“Chat Noir!”  
 

The new voice belonged to a middle-aged man standing in the backyard of a private home. Chat, who had been in the process of crossing to another building on his baton, reversed directions and slid down to land in front of the man. “Oh, Chat Noir, thank goodness I caught you!” The man seized Chat’s gloved hand and shook it. “She’s coming back.”  
 

Chat’s eyes widened. “Your wife?”  
 

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes. I—I quit that terrible job. Took one with less hours. Sold a few things to make up for the loss of income, but then—!” He choked on his words. “I spoke with Simone. Invited her to dinner. I told her I was changing, and I was serious about trying again. She said she would think about it. We’ve been seeing each other off and on ever since, and now—!” The man burst into tears. “I’m so happy, Chat Noir. I’ve never been so happy in my life, and if you hadn’t stopped me from jumping that day, hadn’t spoken to me until I calmed down…!”  
 

Chat stared at the man, stricken. Marinette watched him wrestle the smile back to his face, but it wasn’t confident or cocky. It held no trace of self-importance. “That’s great, Monsieur Delacroix.” He patted the man’s hands with his left. “I’m glad.”  
 

The man shook his head. “Thank you,” he sobbed, “thank you so much. I can never repay your kindness. Thank you, Chat Noir.”  
 

Chat didn’t reply. He only continued to smile until Monsieur Delacroix composed himself and let him go on his way.  
 

Marinette tailed Chat for another three rooftops before he came to a stop.  
 

He stood against the moonlit night, a shadow among shadows.  
 

He sniffled.  
 

His arm came up and he swiped at his face, sniffled again. Let out a shuddering breath. His ring beeped as he raised his arm for another swipe at his eyes.  
 

Another sniffle, then he squared his shoulders. “Alright, Plagg. Let’s go home.”  
 

Marinette stayed in hiding long after he’d gone. When her transformation released, Tikki found her sitting, staring, her cheeks wet with tears. Her thoughts replayed the night’s events over and over.  
 

Chat Noir, helping the waiter overcome his fear. Chat Noir, breaking the tension between two fledgling lovebirds. Chat Noir grinning as he reshaped a string of lights into a heart.  
 

Chat Noir, smiling forlorn at the moon as he thought of his unrequited love, crying alone when he thought no one could see him.  
 

And she thought of Chat Noir, her partner. The guy who pulled jokes out of thin air, who waggled his eyebrows at her and called her _buginette_ and made dramatic declarations of love in the middle of battle. The guy who was always willing to put her safety before his own, even if it cost him his life.  
 

A moron. A hopeless romantic. A boy who hid his hurts behind a mask. Paris’s own patron saint of lovers.  
 

“It’s getting late,” Tikki whispered.  
  


Marinette nodded. She apologized to Tikki for making her go through another transformation on an empty stomach, but thankfully it was a short one. She grabbed her fabric and dropped into the alley. Another flash that no one noticed. Marinette stepped out into the street—her shopping bag hanging beside her, kwami tucked into her scarf—and sniffled all the way home.

…  
 

Later that week, Chat Noir sat alone on a roof, facing the illuminated Eiffel Tower. He’d been there only half an hour when he heard footsteps and turned to find his Lady approaching. “Hmm? Ladybug?” She threw herself down beside him with a relaxed sigh. “What are you doing out so late?”  
 

She sent him a coy smile. “A little birdy told me that a certain black cat likes to wander the streets at night.”  
 

Chat smirked back. “Plenty of little birdies in Paris,” he said.  
 

“You’re not homeless, are you?”  
 

“Would it be a paw-blem if I was?”  
 

“Nope.” Ladybug stretched her arms above her head. “It’s getting cold out, though. You should take care of yourself. Wear a scarf.”  
 

“Aww, My Lady worries about me,” Chat practically cooed. He nudged her with his elbow. “Same goes for you. Imagine what’d happen if the two of us got sick. Who would save Paris? Our new mayor might be a distraught toddler with the power to turn people into teddy bears.”  
 

Ladybug laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something!”  
 

They spent a moment in companionable silence, Chat sneaking glances at her whenever something diverted her attention. “Say, _buginette—_ ”  
 

“Boy, am I tired,” she interrupted him. “Come here, _chaton_. I had a long day.” Confused, Chat shuffled closer to her… and went rigid when she leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. His mouth fell open, then clamped shut. Several beginnings to several sentences sputtered and died before they could reach his tongue. His heart was on an uphill climb; it thundered so loud he was sure she could hear it, and the thought made him blush. The Adrien in him was failing miserably, therefore he fell back on the Chat. Played it cool. Acted like this was normal for them.  
 

Then the mischief got the better of him, and he hummed a few lines of _La Vie En Rose_ to set the mood, staring resolutely ahead at the brightly lit tower.  
 

“… _il est entré dans man coeur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause_ …” Ladybug mumbled, almost to herself. “ _C’est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie… il me l’a dit, l’a juré pour la vie_ …”  
 

Had anyone on the street thought to look up that night, they might have seen two teenage superheroes huddled together against the cold, all nervous smiles and dangling legs.  
  


Not quite lovers, but not quite friends, either.

 

**The End**


End file.
